Eve Dobbins

The August Featured Poet is Eve Dobbins

Please feel free to email Eve at: evemariedobbins@gmail.com



Comfort like Pernod Absinthe
Is largely overrated
It is the shiver of fright masking the delight
The cold fingers tapping my spine
Displacing my bovine world of peace and calm currents
Give me discomfort and aching pains
Give me the weird, the sublime, and the less obvious
As my treat for the day.
The dark enthralls me as the night changes swiftly
I drink in the endless repertoire of what I cannot see.
As Emily Dickenson discovered solitude
I accept and acknowledge
The solidarity which impels me forward into thought
Running from thick denseness of fog like memories
Into the thread of light shining from the end of the pier
Laying naked next to the tallest sailboat
Waking me from my reverie
I see, I acknowledge, and I awake
In time to record my reverie
Only I can see what no one else knows
It is my dream.


There is something about watching a French movie
That puts the meat on your bones
However, it isn’t hamburger meat
But rather a
Filet mignon.
Bloody, juicy, and rare
Daring your inwards to work harder
Grasp more
Clasping the heart
It doesn’t just be


Wild winds shriek through the trees
As the world continues its deluge upon our senses
No longer on microfiche but instead blaring out the images
We stand like the Immaculate Conception listening to proclamations
With judgment and sharp rhetoric drawn like slingshots aimed at the heart
Hungry looks defy the strength of the wild winds shrieking through the trees
We wish for the natural
We assume they are like us but like the wild winds, the torrential rain, sharp diamond hail stones striking windows and concrete
We cannot predict our future by prayers or superstitions
A prayer and a whisper of the sun shining through after the violent storm
Is a stronger sign then words of double entendre melting into shapes and babble.
As the skilled orator manipulates the audience
We are not just like them
But we are more like the gentle brook flowing along
Sometimes in time with the current and
Sometimes raging against the elements and
Overflowing the bank while bystanders pack the banks
Watching us drown and struggle with the current
Sometimes even lending us a hand to pull us further into the mire.
…As the river and the elements continue their travesty
The world continues its claims
preying upon the listening ears as we
Bow our heads silently in prayer.


Bourbon and poor choices
Visited me the other night…in the
I woke loco-in primavera…inhabiting
My cocoon like a butterfly
Trapped by its cocoon—as the months passed
Eventually I flew away
Because that was the only choice
I made along with
Other poor choices

Eve Dobbins has a DNA blueprint that makes her a likely suspect for baking, which led her to co-own a gourmet bakery with her husband from 2012-2015.  Her predilection for travel has led her to Asia, Europe, and the Middle East, paving her path as an English teacher. 

Her current path is for wandering somewhere along the Gulf but really levitating somewhere overseas.